


Whale's Song

by aguamenting, Luminee



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorders, Happy Ending, M/M, Social Anxiety, Whales, a bit of self harm, don't kill the whales, kinda soulmates au, learning how to love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-09 09:10:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17998994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aguamenting/pseuds/aguamenting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luminee/pseuds/Luminee
Summary: Zhangjing never understood Yanjun, especially when he came around him pretending he wanted him to be happy. He never understood why he fell in love with him, and why Yanjun fell in love with him. Maybe somewhere, there is an anwser, maybe not.*A young fisherman is saved by a whale who carry him on her back.





	1. The man and the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> HI GUYSSSS
> 
> Okay this is my first time posting my work on this website ! I'm Ako, nice to meet you >< I won't be posting in english if it wasn't thanks to my pipou and bro Amélie who translated all my work from french to english. Sorry if there's still some mistakes in it ;;
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments, and see y'all for the second and last part of this fic, I sincerely hope you'll enjoy it ! ❤

* * *

  
“Don’t even wish… for me… to do you the same thing after...”

Yanjun smiled, a mix between mockery and amusement, and pushed back on the side Zhangjing’s body, who had turned over to say this, faking a sulky mood but still unable to hide the obvious waves of pleasure which were heating his cheeks. He smiled even more while kissing and sucking the low back of his lover, knowing that what was making Zhangjing so grumpy was shyness and feat that Yanjun would ever feel obligated to do anything, even when they were making love. He was probably afraid that Yanjun would find him dirty, lousy, probably afraid that he was forcing himself, hoping that he would get something from him, and he was trying to make it more annoying, just like it would discourage him. Braggart mask that Yanjun was not believing in for a long time, he had probably never believed in it, knowing that he was able to do anything to Zhangjing’s body as long as the latter would blush and moan, just like he was that night between his arms.

His bust laid on the left side, and his pelvis turned halfway to the top, Zhangjing had to bite his pillow to resist Yanjun’s attention, that he knew had this charming and absolutely odious smirk on his face, his fist tighten knowing his nails would probably mark his palms. He had asked him to not move. And just by the thought of it Zhangjing was shaking, hating the defenceless and abandoned feelings that come with it. He did not like for someone to touch his body that he had hated for so long. He was afraid that Yanjun might see there not really erotics marks, thickness at the wrong places or anything that could be not perfect. And yet, he let him do, obeying without moving, knowing deeply that Yanjun found everything on him at his taste. Everything, from his hair, that would curled during rainy days, until the more and more thin skin at the bottom of his back. Zhangjing opened his eyes wider, muffled a high-pitched scream on his pillow, but was still unable to _want to move._ Whatever Yanjun was doing to him, he was unable to escape, his legendary dignity and pride suddenly helpless, because he knew, he could feel all Yanjun’s sincerity. Like a need to honour him, to pay tribute to him, because he knew Yanjun loved him. That he had the need to devote himself entirely to him, even if it means to slide his head under his legs, one arm lifting Zhangjing’s thigh to reach his penis at the same time, enough to make him lose his mind so Zhangjing would _finally_ forget the decency and questions.

  
* * *

  
Yanjun had no idea what had made him crazy in love with the little young man. He had just caught him, one day, singing in an empty classroom, while he was wandering in the corridors of the conservatory, looking for his night course. He had turned around, lightly laughing, embarrassed of being caught and had helped him to find his way. And Yanjun had been helpless, his voice did not came out to thank the young man, he had grabbed his wrist to hold him while he was catching back his breathe so he could ask him, huskily, what was his name and if he could wait for the end of his class to help him leave the place, and also if he could offer him a coffee. Zhangjing had blushed. He had stared at him with his big black coffee like eyes, but did not turn back, like he had already knew Yanjun and had expected this reaction, still being flattered by it. He had accepted. With the time, they had created a routine, slowly expanded through little rehearsals together before their classes, and eventually through a date during the Music Day, and Yanjun had taken Zhangjing’s lips, unable to let them go ever again.

Zhangjing, with his trailing voice only used when he was feeling uncomfortable and trying to hide it with a built disdain on his face, had often told him he was _weird_. That his passion made no sense, that Yanjun was too handsome, tall, too talented, too full of charms and charisma, too popular to want this badly to stuck around the little singer, who had just ended his diet trying to destroy his old hang-up from his high school years and the bullying that came along. Yanjun’s big almond like eyes, his smooth and thick hair, his long and thin legs that could be compared to a model’s, his jawline that seemed to be able to cut the finger of the one who would stroke it, and his almost all the time crooked smile that gave him a perfect boyfriend straight out of a Japanese _anime_ vibe. Smiley, charming and confident – the truth was that he was none of all this. He actually was quite the opposite. Zhangjing, still confused by the evident contrast between Yanjun and he, knew an anxious boy, who hated crowded spaces, short-tempered and jealous, clumsy. He knew his terrible sense of humour and lame abilities at cooking. He knew his sick need of learn everything about anything, caused by his lack total of self confidence. He knew his total adoration for the little young man, that no one had ever noticed before him – and all this sounded like a romantic American film aimed to single and puffy teenagers.

Zhangjing knew Yanjun full of insecurities and he had always been surprised to see him even more affected than him by those. He had always seen himself as anxious and naturally stressed, but the first time he had seen Yanjun trapped into an anxiety crisis, crying until ripping his hair and hitting the walls down to hurt his fingers, Zhangjing had felt, for the first time, the weird need to be strong. This instinctive desire to be there for someone. He had crouched next to him, took in his warm hands his scraped fists and had kissed the head of a frozen Yanjun, barely able to breathe. Walking with difficulty through the storm until he got into the eye of it, Zhangjing had defied his fear – Yanjun could have never hurt him, he was sure of that – and had whispered that he was here. That he was not going to abandon him. That everything would be fine. That it was just temporary shadows and nightmares surrounding his mind, and that now, they were two to fight them. He could remember Yanjun’s dark eyes, like an abyss, his eyeballs injected with blood, staring at him, lost, like near madness. He could remember Yanjun, grabbing him suddenly, cutting his breathe short, not even trying to hide his tears, uttering painfully that he had thought he had left forever and that he could never be forgiven if he had abandoned him now.

Zhangjing never knew what Yanjun needed to be forgiven for. After allowing to let himself go against his naked and burning chest, he did not fall asleep immediately, asking once again silently to the moon and stars that he could glimpsed through the window what was torturing that much Yanjun, because his heart has been broken ever since, not knowing what was his distress and how to calm it.

  
* * *

  
_The young fisherman had never seen that before. The waves were two times the size of the mast, the noises they made every time they were crashing against the hull sounded like the last noises before the door of hell. He was sure he was going to die and he did not like this statement very much. His mother would probably sob for weeks before spending her entire life saying that her son was a useless idiot, and had been so until the very end. Leave to hunt whales, he had said, that young moron. Those chimeras that probably did not even exist, and it would have been better if he had staid and sold shells to help his old mother that had given him everything. Instead of looking for dragons and unicorns, risking the Kraken and Poseidon’s anger. Holding to the balustrade, the young man could hear the nasal voice of his aunt and the one, piercing, of his mother and their various postmortem reproaches, probably not really different from those he was given when he was a minor, obliged to take the tea with them._

_Now that he was facing his destiny, even his horrible aunt Joselyn did not seemed like his worst enemy ever. Henceforth, dragged into a terrible maelstrom, looking like some kind of divine punishment, his boat turning faster and faster, cracking without mercy, the mast falling on the sailors that had not been able to hide fast enough, and the young fisherman turning away so he would not see how his comrades were crushed. He was the only one not crying, too annoyed to realize that his life was going to stop before it has even started. Here he was, waiting, more wisely than an elder, for death, without fighting or asking for help, without confessing nor praying._

 

* * *

  
Zhangjing had never seen the ocean. Yanjun had been surprised the first time he had come to his house, discovering an encyclopedia, books telling stories about dolphins, or forsaken cetaceans. Jules Verne’s books like _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_ , _Moby Dick_ or _The Old Man and the Sea_ by Hemingway. He had a DVD of Besson’s _The Big Blue_ and Yann Arthus-Bertrand’s documentaries, without mentioning _Finding Nemo_. When Yanjun had crouch to examine his collection, Zhangjing had shyly made this confession, coming back from the kitchen on his tiptoes, two warm cups of tea in his hands.

“ _Is this why it fascinates you that much? Because you have never seen it?”_

_“I guess? I’ve never been out of the city. To be honest, I have never seen snow either.”_

_“I see...”_

_“Well, lucky you, because I don’t see anything at all_ ” had laughed Zhangjing.

And Yanjun had felt his heart tighten without understanding really why. He could feel that there was something there to dig but had never dared to ask why Zhangjing, captivated by the sea, had never organized a day, a week, a moment, to take the train and make his dream come true. Maybe he was scared, just like Yanjun was, to be hit by reality. That it might be disappointing and dull.

Yanjun had never been the calm kind. Little, he had struggled with nightmares, had an irrational fear of storm, of rain at night, and could only cry himself to sleep. Growing up, he had still been afraid of dark, but sleeping with the city lights filtering through the window gave him night terrors in which dark silhouettes stood out of the gold outside. Letting the young man frozen on his bed, his eyes bulging and a silent scream, bursting out when he was finally able to wake up. The crowd terrified him and he was easily overwhelmed by stress at the tiniest pressure. As a teen, he had had to use a traditional tranquilliser, hard to keep as a secret and, Zhangjing had gotten tears in his eyes while discovering the scars on his arms. Still resistant, no matter how long it had been since.

Yanjun, who never handle abandonment, had paradoxically never been very surrounded. He had suffered a lot through every departure of his friends at every step of his life, middle school, high school, college. He isolated himself for days when a fight was coming for him and the first crisis that had scared Zhangjing was a day during which he had called to cancel the afternoon they were supposed to spend together, telling him he would still come to see him during the evening. Yanjun’s voice had became less and less perceptible and his not-yet-boyfriend had first thought it was due to lack of sleep. Until he had discovered him a few hours later, sitting against the wall of his kitchen, staring at a broken piece of tile, marks of salt on his cheeks.

“ _Yanjun? What happened?”_

_“...”_

_“Yanjun, damn, are you okay? Do you want me to call 911? Are you fainting? Look at me!”_

_“Sorry… I thought… you were not coming back..._ ”

Zhangjing had kept silent and then had sighed.

“ _It’s the first time I meet such an idiot… You’re even worse than me_.”

And he had brought his head against his heart, smiling sadly, before starting to sing the song he had been learning at that time. Yanjun had apologized for hours, and then begged him to stay over that night.

“ _I’m afraid without you_.”

Zhangjing had accepted. Stroking the deep of Yanjun’s dimple, putting his cheek even more comfortably in the corner of his collar bone. Just like a puppy, the latter agreed to the stroking, relaxing little by little, and his breathing becoming smoother.

Zhangjing had not been scared in front of Yanjun’s obvious sick possessiveness, he had never raised his voice on him or tried to ran away and stopped their relationship. No matter how hard Yanjun had been crying on the phone when Zhangjing was visiting a friend he did not know about, hitting the walls until he would broke the plaster, waking up in the middle of the night screaming. Never Zhangjing had given up on him. At the end, Yanjun had became softer to his contact, like tamed. He had learn to trust, to fall in love in a healthier way than he had never been able to. He had learn to rely on him as much as Zhangjing ended up relying on Yanjun. He had had the feeling to go out of a tempest, a storm that had lasted for years, a hurricane of uncontrollable emotions that had been crushing into ashes Yanjun’s mental health. He had had the impression to distinguish a shy rainbow in a still rainy sky and, to spin the metaphor, to glimpse new colours.

  
* * *

  
_The young fisherman opened with difficulty his eyes, grinning as he felt the sprays of salty water on his face and entered his nose. He choked almost, cough violently, shaking his body that was feeling entirely painful, before understanding he was still on the water – but that he was probably not dead. If he was, then, paradise had been over sell, because it seemed like nothing that he was feeling at that moment was pleasant. For that matter, he had not expected to feel anything once dead, to go on that topic._

_Without having the time to stay cynical, the young man opened his eyes wider suddenly, not caring about the horrible tingly sensation under his eyelid due to salt who had irritated those. He was floating on something. Something that did not look like a board or a barrel. He was floating on something moving on its own and not under the ocean’s will, something that was so huge that he he had the impression to be on a little beach, a moving reef, something like that. While he tried to get up, half terrified, like it was trying to end to impress him, a huge squirt of water was projected to the sky, a few miles from him. A squirt that was as tall as a man, so way higher than himself._

_The young man swallowed the bile and saliva left on him. He was certainly on the back of a whale, reduced to the drift of her own will._

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing did not had a happy childhood. Not like he did not have any friends, or that he had been suffering of any kind of disability, however middle school had been a very complicated period, leaving a bitter mark that has yet to disappear. He had left school full of hangs-up, about his weight, his preferences for sweets, his love for reading, his passion for classical music, his smile that shows up his gums when he was laughing too much, his tininess, his lack of endurance while working out. He had arrived in high school afraid, a brand new shyness taking him under control every time someone would talk to him, his smile frozen into a sulky pout, scared that he would be laughed at again. He had withdraw into his music course, and all kind of classes that would allow him to study those composers he had always been fascinated by. Among them all, Zhangjing loved Jean-Sébastien Bach’s regularity and his rigour, who had brought back to life lost astronauts in _2001, A Space Odyssey_ , by Kubrick. Sometimes, like them et like Indochine, he felt like a “ _cat on Mars who would never come back on Earth_ ”. He still was not talking to anyone.

Thus, when he had been into a flirt like Lin Yanjun, he could not believe it. All this seemed to him like a huge joke, like the ones when he was alone in middle school and girls would make fun of him, pretending they were in love with so they could reject him better. The boy would cover him with thoughtfulness, all of them more unlikely than the other. He was always making sure to walk him over when it was obvious Zhangjing was too scared to take the subway at night after their courses, always asked for extra cream while ordering a coffee and giving him his own spéculoos when Zhangjing finally dared to eat his in front of him. Yanjun was weird, completely crazy, had thought Zhangjing. Crazy for wanting to be stuck with him when there was a thousand more interesting people out there. It was not like Yanjun could have any troubles in the world, he had thought, with a pretty prince charming like face like his.

Since it was obviously a bad joke, Zhangjing had taken nothing seriously. He had been on the defensive during many days, a provocative look on his face, judging Yanjun all the time, trying to make himself unbearable so that he would give up quickly, not being able to believe a person... like him could have wanted to be close to him. He had made fun of him. His jokes, his puns, his habits, his clumsiness. He had growled at him that he should stopped staring at him, that he was looking like a fish out of the water – the truth not really far from his cutting remarks as Yanjun really was breathless sometimes, which never failed to make Zhangjing uncomfortable.

However, Yanjun had kept on stick on, answering to his defiance look with a unbreakable obstinacy, so that he would believe him.

“ _Don’t you have friends to see? Real ones?”_

_“That’s what I’m doing here.”_

_“Leave me alone, Yanjun, I don’t wanna eat in front of you.”_

_“You don’t like eating in front of people?”_

_“… No.”_

_“So I can finish your plate?”_

_“YANJUN! Get out of my table!”_

_“I won’t look at you. Promise_.”

Ignoring the anxiety rising at the bottom of his stomach, filling him so much he almost lost his appetite, Zhangjing had started to eat, swallowing his tears. He had eaten slowly, with difficulty, standing up with pride against this intruder with all his strength. He had been strong for long minutes, stuck up in a church worthy silence while Yanjun was keeping himself busy with a book taken in the library, without any other pressure than his suffocating presence. Zhangjing wanted to shock. He had the feeling that, like every time he was eating with someone, his throat was tightening each time he tried to swallow, fighting against the nausea becoming more and more powerful. Nevertheless, he had eaten everything. His fist tight and tears in his eyes. And when he had put down his forks, Yanjun had raised his eyes to him, took a tissue and wiped of the tears, without any word.

He had always let him all the time he needed. A few weeks later, Zhangjing had learnt Yanjun had missed a few beginnings of his courses to stay with him until the end of his meals, stuck on a little bench of the university. Without ever telling him, just to make sure he was eating correctly and was not running to the restrooms right after. Without ever telling him, Yanjun had always been worried for him, stubborn, so that Zhangjing would learn again how to eat easily, alone or not, at the right hours.

One night, after the end of the last show of their first Music Day, they had sat on a bench, near the subway, a sandwich on Yanjun’s hands and a tiny punnet of fries on Zhangjing’s thighs. A huge bottle of water at their feet, each of them with an earphone, they were eating calmly, sharing sometimes a smile or a collusive glance. A few minutes later, they had met Yanjun’s acquitances, three girls and two boys. Zhangjing had lower his head, putting his leftover next to him. He knew these girls.

“ _Yanjun? What are you doing next?”_

_“We’re going home, we’ll take one of the last trains.”_

_“Sure? We’re looking for a nightclub, come with us!”_

_“No, thanks, we’ll go home.”_

_Yanjun was politely smiling, standing up in front of the group. Zhangjing could feel himself starting to froze like a rock statue as the girls starting to stare at him more and more obviously._

_“Hey, we know each other, don’t we?”_

_Yes. But Zhangjing did not answer._

_“It’s Zhangjing.”_

_Yanjun’s voice had no feeling._

_“Ah! I remember! We were in the same school right? You could say hello,” had laughed one of the girl. Wrongly. In the corner of his eye, Zhangjing saw her adjust one of her hair lock. She was acting pretty, staring at Yanjun. He gritted his teeth, but no sound came out of his open mouth. His throat too tight. The taste of fries at the bottom of his throat turning into acid._

_“Let it go, he’s probably not used to a pretty girl talking to him.”_

_This had been said jokingly. Probably nothing. The boy had not thought, probably jealous of the chuckles surrounding Yanjun now. Greedy to look funny and interesting in the eyes of the girls that he could feel were choosing a distant and attractive classmate. Zhangjing strove himself to not take him seriously and not react while Yanjun’s voice rose once again. Hard and cold, like marble, like Yanjun had never talked in front of Zhangjing. Never._

_“I told you we were going home, why the fuck does it matter to you that he says hi if he’s leaving?”_

_“Sorry? Who the hell are you? His boyfriend?”_

_In shock, Zhangjing rose his head. Swallowing a dumbfounded hiccup realizing how scary Yanjun had become. A dark look on his face, his shoulders in front like he was ready to charge, his jawline tight, his hands shaking and his bare skin exposed to the fresh air of the night, travelled by a venous pattern._

_“You wish, you would be sure to fuck tonight.”_

_In a usual time, Zhangjing would have make fun of Yanjun’s obvious narcissism. But tonight, controlled by an unspeakable instinct, guided by his senses, he hardly raised his hand, breaking out of his immobility, to put his palm on the Yanjun’s naked arm. The girls were not moving, under the shock or out of fear, but Zhangjing’s eye sight had suddenly become blurry for everything that was not Yanjun._

_“Let it go,” he whispered under his breath._

Even after one year and nine months, he still got the chills, that he could not tell if it was pleasant or unpleasant. He remembered the other boy telling him to leave (on more crude words), even if he could not remember the precise words, he remembered Yanjun grabbing him by the collar to yell something very violent. Zhangjing had yelled to, strengthen his grip on the latter’s arm, had asked him to calm down. Another girl had intervened, had excused her comrade using alcohol, had said good evening to Yanjun – only to Yanjun – and the third one had shyly suggested that they should part for the night. Yanjun had sat down, and when Zhangjing had found back enough balance in this weird situation to let his arm slid against his, their hands had tied. He remembered Yanjun had squeezed his so strongly that it had hurt, but he had not protested.

Yanjun was losing every type of restraint when it comes to Zhangjing. And yet, their first time have not been passionate and explosive. Zhangjing had let go of himself for a few moments before bursting out of tears against Yanjun’s shoulder, babbling excuses hardly audible. They had laid back down, the little one on the arms of the tall one, sniffing and sobbing, taking a monstrous time to calm down. But the other one knew. He knew Zhangjing had never let anyone touch him before him. He knew he hated already enough his face on the mirror, so the rest of his body was not even conceivable. He knew all the sweep and sincerity of Zhangjing’s feelings for him, without it giving him any confidence, too focused on his self hate to consider that someone could accept and loving entirely. He knew all that and had no cure for it, soothing him while losing all kind of time references, whispering on his ear that he was beautiful, that everything was normal, that they had all the time in front of us and that he would wait for him as long as necessary. He had understood that if Zhangjing was not strong enough to share his body with him, he trusted him enough to share his struggles and tears, until he would let himself cry in his arms, he had given him the right to comfort him.

Yanjun had always waited and Zhangjing had always came back. It had been like that for many long months that had shaped their deep and atypical relationship. Learning slowly one like the other to walk with a crutch, then to fly away alone to get back together, to hold on, and never let the other go.

 

* * *

 

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]


	2. The young man and the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you guys enjoyed this but in any case I hope this second part won't disappoint you !! See y'all at the end uwu thanks a lot for reading me, ily ;;;

*

_The young fisherman was really not worthy of his name. His skin attacked by the salt, washed-up on the beach like a dead cetacean, and the sun burning his cheeks. He was barely human. Crazed by the tiredness, the hunger and the heat, he dragged himself on a shady corner on the pebble beach, scratching his head on the shells, and closed his eyes._

_A few hours later, a fresh air that made his crusts relived and the young man and groaned of pain, waking up again. He managed to hobble his way on the sand, bursting the shell of tinier shells and ended up chewing berries that were left with mistrust. As night was falling, he found a tree trunk with a cutting stone to drink greedily its sap, unable to open a coconut, too weak and not enough desperate._

_The night was hard. He was tired without wanting to sleep, every muscles he had was stiff and his skin was irritated at many decisive places. As it was not enough, he did not knew half of the bugs on the island – if we could call this section of sand poorly surfacing an island. However, he would have like to feel something more precise, like despair, the need to scream to the moon on the sand, or anything else. Everything but this inert fatalism that made him feel like he was dead inside._

_As his look was getting lost on the horizon, in the sad assessment that he was probably going to die slowly here, the young man saw a huge squirt of water pierce through the evening sea’s oil. At that moment, he smiled, hardly because his lips were bleeding, but he smiled. The whale was waiting for him. He knew he would get back on her back, as soon as he would be able to swim. He guessed without thinking what was preventing him from fearing death and a morbid end. She had brought him here, and she will guide him somewhere else. The young man did not know what was making him so sure of the whale’s decision, but he was deeply believing now; she was his ally._

_He fall asleep during the late night, analyzing with curiosity the stars with the sound of the whale’s song. The surprising melody made him think about the musical performances his mother was bringing him to – was forcing him to go. A kind of methodical regularity but still very creative, a wealth that he was unable to understand all the subtleties. A bit like Jean-Sébastien Bach._

 

* * *

 

“Yanjun don’t be annoying and let it go, for once.”

It was the night of their two years. Yanjun had been surprised that Zhangjing had remembered, but, after all, they were counting from three days after Music Day, making the calculus easier. Two years that they were together, in a _relationship_ , and if Yanjun would have given blood and organs for Zhangjing, he still had did not know how to celebrate a date, no matter what was her signification. He had tried many things, a film night for a birthday, a messed up Christmas dinner, a leather bracelet for their first year, a steel ring for the Zhangjing’s second anniversary and a picnic under the stars for their second Christmas.

On the paper everything seemed very film like, and Yanjun knew that, in the theory, everything had pleased Zhangjing to the point of blushing and laughing. However, every celebration was terrifying him many weeks before, at the moment he was under the pressure so unsure that he would stay quiet for long minutes, his hands shaking like a little boy’s who has to speak up in front of the entire classroom. At every special day they were sharing, Zhangjing was giving him his most adorable smile and was forced to reassure him, to tell him that everything was perfect and that what was not perfect was making the day even more perfect – and Yanjun could feel his eyes getting wet not knowing if he was grateful or humiliated.

He hated knowing that he was a burden for Zhangjing, and this sensation was even stronger when he was striving himself to prepare something and that at the end, it was the little one that would take the matter into his own hands. But that night, the night of their two years, Yanjun was too taken aback to feel anything as Zhangjing was _literally_ taking the matter into his own hands; and this was giving him a whole new sensation.

They were lying one against the other, Zhangjing has the bigger spoon against Yanjun’s back, slipping his hand above his hip and his other arm near his torso. An annoyed tongue popping followed Zhangjing’s order, before his lips would allow themselves to suck the skin on the shoulder within reach. Yanjun had his eyes almost wide open, staring at the window without seeing it, his mouth half opened on a protest that never came, killed in the bud by his boyfriend’s authority. A whisper got to him, between two kisses:

“Just let me feel what you feel, please.”

Goodbye pride, goodbye provocation. Zhangjing was now a lover and in love, gentle in his stroke, no matter how intimate they were, making Yanjun wanting to scream. Closing his eyes, by reserve, he tried not to focus on the vulnerability he was despising, this vulnerability that he was still offering to Zhangjing, split between tenderness and the pleasure of this new exchange, and the guilt and fear to be so suddenly expose, defenseless, not being able to squeeze Zhangjing in his arms.

The other one sighed.

“Yanjun, you’re not my sexual prisoner, okay? Relax, please.”

The latter could not help but have a plaintive whine, that he had never thought he would be able to have. Zhangjing’s hand was soft, his palm warm and his fingers slowly going between his thighs. Her twin let finally go of Yanjun’s wrists, dragging it out of his body that was crushing it until then, to run in arabesques on his back, giving him a few chills against his will. He felt Zhangjing’s forehead on the back of his head, the tip of his nose blowing on his dark locks, and his mouth kissing the base of his neck.

“Trust me. I love you.”

Yanjun whined, his throat tighten but his heart willing.

 

* * *

 

_The young man had waited two days and two nights before daring to jump into the water. He had swam hardly to the whale, on thirty miles, maybe even more than fifty, he had lost the count. He had heard her sing, she had not stopped, not until he had reached her. Once again washed-up on her back, like he had been on the beach, they had drifted away for many more miles, during a day, a night and a dawn. The young man had not a fucking idea of why he had trusted so much that animal that was not even talking the same language as him._

_The dawn let his spot to a sunny noon, hot like hell, and the young man really wanted to let himself die. Likely, it was his destiny, the cetacean even if he was taking him under his shelter, had not understand that he was not made to live on the salty water by his side…_

_The young man heard a horn’s noise ripped the atmosphere. Too out of breathe to jumped out, he just rolled over on his back, discerning wood noises, clicking of steel and voices that sounded like what used to be his._

_Human voices._

_The whale had led him to another fishing boat._

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing had never seen the ocean.

And Yanjun could not report this fact, trying his best to offer him something, maybe too afraid to confront the tsunami that seemed to be waiting, just like a sword of Damocles hanging up over their heads. He was feeling that something would go wrongly when Zhangjing would stand in front of the sea for the first, the sea that he was so fascinated by and still, had always stand so far away from it. He was not sure if he was strong enough for Zhangjing to lean on him at that moment, and, obviously, this idea was the most terrifying one for Yanjun. The one to not be worthy for Zhangjing, the one to weaken without being able to ask for help, the one to make a decisive mistake. Sea had scared mankind as much as they had been fascinated by since the dawn of humanity. This huge area of salty water that was giving its colour to their planet and setting the horizon, the one that the depths had probably only for equal the immensity of the sky above their heads. Only mankind’s imagination could fill the abysses, that no one could reach the bottom of it – and this could have been even more frightening than imagining that the universe had no end. Yanjun, far from deciding which one was less reassuring: the vacuum of space or the Lovecraft’s apocalyptic monsters, was only focused on the centre of his own universe and the fear that the latter would turn into a black hole, absorbing all kind of light and energy if he ever made a wrong step.

“You don’t wanna tell me where we’re going? Seeing your face, we’re ready to get lost,” sighed Zhangjing suddenly, snuggling against his boyfriend after putting their baggages on the compartment above their heads, looking at him half worried, half mischievous.

“No,” answered Yanjun, immediately looking for his hand to take in his, tried his best to have a reassuring and loving smile.

Zhangjing let out a grunt of frustration, balanced by a smile he could not hold, reflecting Yanjun’s. He did not protest and let his head rest on Yanjun’s shoulder in an affective manner, posing their hands now linked on his knees, possessively.

“Too bad for you. You will have to ask your GPS when you’ll be lost.”

Yanjun laughed behind his anxiety.

“Trust me.”

“Not even in your dreams.”

Yanjun giggled.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” whispered Zhangjing, his words revealing his smile every time he said it.

_“… I love you.”_

_“You what?”_

_Zhangjing was staring at Yanjun like he had grown a second head. It had not been enough for him to scare him to death, leaving him at his place after telling him goodbye, to come back and knock at his door – at past two am, can you believe – now Yanjun was turning suddenly into a chimerical monster, dramatic illusion that Zhangjing could not believe._

_Music Day was over for a long time now, Zhangjing’s bullies and Yanjun’s abuser gone, the night had spread on the roofs and the lights of the shops were turned off. Zhangjing realized suddenly that Yanjun had been ready to come back home by feet, since public transportations would not operate before five thirty in the morning. This thought made his unbelief and fear turn into anger._

_“If you wanted to sleep at home, you could have just ask, no need to pretend, Lin Yanjun!”_

_“If I wanted what?” choked the latter, his eyes wide opened, leaning imperceptibly forward, like he had taken a blow._

_“I’m tired of your lies and your tricks to take advantage of me, you think I don’t know that those people are your friends? That you’re just acting because it turns you on to wait for me to surrender so you could walk all over me?”_

_Zhangjing had kept on throwing his venom for many seconds, maybe even one or two minutes, a few eternities for Yanjun, frozen in the middle of the paved way that was leading to the entrance of his building, in chock, his legs shaking._

_“Zh-Zhangjing?”_

_His voice had came out more high-pitched then what he had wanted, and his shaking was against his will. However the latter did not stop his logorrhea, coming closer to him, his finger raised to insult an old student, Yanjun did not know who, who had learn that, not only was he too fat to be pretty, but also Zhangjing had the indecency to be gay, and had lied to him to pretend going out with him after a bet with his friends, and how this boy had stolen his first kiss before slapping him. And as he was pronouncing the word “slap”, Zhangjing had rose his hand, probably without even noticing it, enraged, and Yanjun abruptly cringed._

_If the gesture had made obvious his complete vulnerability, it had made Zhangjing quiet, and the silence came between them like a light breeze before the younger broke it, his voice completely changed:_

_“Yanjun… why are you crying?”_

_Only a sob answered him._

_Yanjun kept his big ink like dark eyes fixed on the little one, sparkling with tears, unable to move, his mouth still a bit open like he had tried to interrumpt him. Standing still in the middle of the way like idiots, the two boys were staring at each other without understanding what was going on. At this moment, Zhangjing’s hand, before ready to slap the other one without mercy, touched, delicate and fresh, Yanjun’s cheek who sniffed at the touch, closing his mouth without talking further._

_“Are you crying because I scared you?”_

_Zhangjing had to focus to hear the whispered “no”, as if the latter was answering him from the other side of the parking._

_“Because you think that I don’t like you?”_

_Zhangjing was unsure but at the same time, Yanjun must have known how he was feeling. If he had tried to push him away, it was in the hope to trigger his fall, to make him leave while he was expecting nothing from him, hoping to not hope. If he had made fun of Yanjun’s feelings and his way of caring, it was to mock what was yelling in his heart and to consign what he was feeling on the deepest part of his unconscious. For him, Yanjun was too handsome to be real, too perfect to be honest, and if he was desperate to meet someone like him, he did not believed in fairytale any more. So it was obvious that Yanjun was lying. Zhangjing’s brain was working trying to find a logical explanation, but to see the tears going out of the involuntarily loved eyes, he could ignore it._

_“No...”_

_Yanjun’s voice was a bit more audible and Zhangjing slowly stroke his cheek with his thumb._

_“Then why are you crying?” Another breeze went through them. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when they hurt you...”_

_And Yanjun sobbed again, closing his eyes this time, by shame, by fear or by shyness, Zhangjing could not tell, too focused on the wave of heat that was flooding his chest, giving him wings strong enough to make him stretched on his tip-toe, helping with his other hand put on Yanjun’s chest, toward Yanjun’s lips._

_And like a geyser, a volcano, an earthquake, the feelings of the other one burst as Yanjun grabbed him in a way too passionate embrace to be fake, taking him into a blunt, almost savage, kiss. Zhangjing was too lost to be able to remember anything else from this night, lost in a vortex of emotions that still offered him the very first feeling of fullness of his life._

“Do you wanna share an earphone?”

Brutally taken out of his thoughts and memories, Zhangjing jumped, creating a half mocking, half moved, laugh from Yanjun’s mouth. A very light punch answered him.

“Don’t laugh!”

Without surprise, Yanjun laughed even more, revealing his gums and digging his dimples. Making the most out of the fact that the almost empty wagon, Zhangjing started to throw at him few little punches, knowing very well that the other one would stop him by kissing him and ruffling his hair. Zhangjing thought that it was a better way to ask for kiss rather than ask, in a boring way.

 

* * *

 

_“A man on the sea!”_

_The screams were closer, and, obviously, clearer. The young man wished he could answer them but his throat was hurting him too much. He felt the shadow of the hull over them, cooling the air, and he almost drawn brutally when he felt suddenly the back of the whale stopping to support him. A net grabbed his body, he went out of the water and his body suddenly felt heavier, even in his half coma. A voice told him he was safe, that he could let go now, that everything would be fine, that he was among his people, but for a reason the young man suddenly felt the need to speak, to open his eyes, to make sure of something._

_“She.. she saved me...”_

_Nobody heard him. His eyelid were so heavy that it was like they would never be able to be open fully, and still, he put a huge effort to do it. His scream tear his throat, probably already damaged, as he distinguished the spears, the harpoons and the water turning crimson red. The ropes of the net were pulling off the dead skin of his face as he was pressing it, moved by a crazy energy that could only be the one from despair, while the blood of the whale was watering the men._

_“SHE SAVED ME!”_

_And his heart was shred, knowing it was too late. She had always known that he could not breathe like her, that his skin would never resist to the salt that was her world, still, she had carried him until the end, following her instinct: it was not their differences that she had understood. It was him who had never understand how similar they were, no matter what was their natural environment._

_The young fisherman died a bit at the same time as the whale was slaughtered._

_His throat torn apart by the screams and sobs never carried another word, another note, another sound when his feet got back on the land and the stones of the port, leaving his voice as she could never sing again in this life._

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing had never seen the ocean.

But the ocean was not about seeing only. It was about hearing, tasting, and the various textures that the young man could feel if Yanjun was not careful enough. Zhangjing had been forced to wear a headband on his eyes, earphones on playing a piano music, his boyfriend had even thought of going as far as blocking his nose, but ended up believing that he might could not recognize the smells of the coast. They were walking hand in hand, Yanjun pulling Zhangjing when the road was too abruptly going up, the little one surprisingly calm and confident. Avoiding the beaches were too many people would trouble their intimacy, Yanjun had chosen a more isolated place, a one of kind point of a view but still not really visited because too high for the all comers.

When their walk ended, Yanjun moved apart from Zhangjing, looking in his bag for a bottle of water before the other one let out a worried whine, raising his hand in the void to find back Yanjun’s. The latter smiled, touched and his heart beating fast, and put his lips on Zhangjing’s before slowly taking off his earphones and his headband. Zhangjing was not comfortable, and let him do as he embraced his lover, like he was trying to be reassured, answering his chaste kiss. Free of his shackles, he struggled to move apart from Yanjun who did not let him go, simply turning to face the horizon, his long arms tied around Zhangjing’s waist and his chin on his shoulder.

Zhangjing saw the ocean.

He first had his breath cut off, his legs almost letting him go, fortunately hold by Yanjun who tighten his hold around his waist. A wheeze came out of his jaw, and he ended up putting his hands on his mouth. Yanjun felt the burning tears running on his own cheeks, even if they were not his, he had expected a shock, the fear was quick to torn his stomach.

“Zhangjing?”

Let without an answer, Yanjun straighten up to watch him, and the strength of what he saw in the eyes of his lover hit him like a punch. Zhangjing looked like the one who just had a vision, a waking dream, the one that turns crazy, that is possess. His eyes were wide opened, letting a flood of tears on his cheeks, suddenly pale like a cadaver, and his hands were tighten fists, his nails scratching his face.

“Zhangjing what’s going on?”

Afraid, Yanjun made him turn to face him, embracing him like he was about to protect him from he had no idea what kind of danger, probably from everything. He felt Zhangjing letting him do, without giving up his fixation, dived in the sea like a shipwrecked. After what seemed to be an eternity, Yanjun felt his tiny hands grabbing his coat on his back and on his shoulders, and a sob louder than ever was heard above the waves.

“Zhangjing… hey, it’s going to be okay… Zhangjing, I love you.”

He felt the latter hiding his nose on his neck, inhaling as loud as possible, like he was trying to drawn in his perfume and forget the world.

“It was you… It was you over there.”

“What?”

“It was you that I saved.”

If Yanjun had the feeling that his body was reacting to his words like it was knowing better than his mind of what was going on, he stayed there, his arms dangling, to this inexplicable statement.

“From what did you saved me… Yes, without you I’d have probably killed myself but what is-”

“From the sinking Yanjun. I remember now. You were the one I carried on my back to bring you home. It’s you who cried for me when I died.”

Yanjun crumbled when he finally remembered. He tried to close his eyes to not see the blood in his memories, he forgot if it was him or Zhangjing who was holding to the other to not fall. His only anchor point to reality was the taste for Zhangjing’s skin, salted by the tears, when he put his face on his neck, exact reflect, like the yin and the yang, of Zhangjing’s position.

“Sorry… thank you for everything...”

“Sorry…”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Above everything.”

 

* * *

 

« Le silence éternel des espaces infinis m'effraie Et la seule chose qu'on puisse lui opposer, C’est la poésie et la musique. »

\- Pascal

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't translated the Pascal's quotation but it means like "the silence of huge infinite spaces scares me, and the only thing we could do to escape it, it's by poetry or music" !
> 
> I was about to write more about this but I think it's good to end the story like this, what are your thoughts ? Thanks for reading me until the end !! Also thanks for Amélie for the whole translation, you can follow her on twitter @acciojinki and myself @aguamenting uwu

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this til the end !! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did(n't because it was very sad to write) !
> 
> The story is over in french but I'll wait til Amélie translated the full story. I wish I was able to deliver it in one whole piece but we were too excited to share it so here's a first part. It will be over in the next post ❤
> 
> I'm on twitter @aguamenting and Amélie is @acciojinki ❤
> 
> Feel free to comment this even if you didn't like it !! xoxo, Ako


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